


A Lesson in Consideration

by PotterHolmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterHolmes/pseuds/PotterHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Occupying John's old room, Molly has moved into 221B following the broadcast at Sherlock's insistence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Short two-shot that takes place after Moriarty's "return". Please note that this is my first fan-fic ever and would like to get your thoughts! Thanks in advance and I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 1

Molly sighed as she gathered her things. She had just finished a double at Bart's and was utterly exhausted. She closed her eyes for a moment and felt a slight wave of dizziness. Sleep was definitely needed and she intended to do just that once she arrived at Baker street. 

She walked outside and a cool breeze caressed her face. She loved springtime in the city and would have walked to enjoy the vibrant blooms and greenery if she wasn't so tired. 

She easily hailed a cab and rolled down the window as the short drive to Baker street commenced. She closed her eyes again and felt light-headed this time. When was the last time she ate? she pondered. She vaguely recalled consuming a sandwich and some crisps at the canteen, but that seemed like hours and hours ago. Maybe there was something at the flat she could pick at before ascending the stairs to collapse into her bed. She was grateful she had the next day off. 

With that thought, the cab came to a halt; she quickly paid and took her leave. She was just about to push open the door when she full on collided into Sherlock's chest.

Not a all fazed, he spoke in his deep baritone, "Molly! There you are, I was wondering what was taking so long. You should have been back hours ago." He looked a little annoyed.

"I worked a double. I was covering for Dr. Couture. I told you that this morning before I left, but then again, you probably didn't hear me." She visualized him sitting in his chair with his fingers steepled just under his chin, deep in thought, as the morning light had softened his dark features. 

"Well Lestrade just phoned me and surmise it to say, this may be an eight!" He looked as giddy as a child with the news. "A man has been murdered." 

"Well have fun then, I'm off to bed. I'm not feeling too well." She tried to push past him. 

Being stronger than she was, he placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around, facing the street again. "The body is arriving at Bart's shortly. I need you there."

"No, Sherlock. I only just got off work and I'm tired. Plus I think I'm getting sick. Let me through!" She had even raised her voice with the last statement. She was glad she were past the point of stumbling her words and not being able to stand her ground with him. 

Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, she was able to worm her way past him. She was halfway up the stairs when she heard him start on her again. 

"Molly." She heard footsteps ascend the stairs behind her. She slowly turned again, blushing slightly at how close he was to her. She silently reprimanded herself for continuing to react in this way. 

He gazed at her intently. His eyes were a deep sapphire blue today and his pupils slightly dilated, which she knew was only because the hallway was low lit and not because of feelings, Sherlock didn't have those for her, didn't have them for anyone really. "Please come. You're the only pathologist that I trust. You see things that...uh...sometimes I don't see." 

Oh so he was going for flattery. He must really be desperate if he was putting down his own abilities of observation and complimenting her own. Her mind instantly went to the day he has observed the way she had parted her hair differently. She had been so lovestruck then that she didn't see that he was manipulating her to see a body, well two bodies that day, but they were over that stage and had been for a while. She had slapped him, more than once for good measure, for using and had no problem saying no to him anymore. 

"No." She turned and continued up the stairs. 

"Fine. You're clearly being irrational because you're hungry. When did you last eat? Hours ago I expect and canteen food no less. I'll wait here while you collect something to take with you, but hurry, the cab won't wait forever."

She responded to this by shutting the door of the flat. 

She took a deep breath as she hung up her jacket. She looked around the sitting room, in complete disarray per usual, papers, clothing, and tea cups littered all surfaces. Normally, she would pick up after him, but today she didn't have the energy or the kindness to do so. 

Strolling into the kitchen, she opened a few cupboards to find nothing of interest. She settled on brewing a cuppa and munching on a few stale crackers before discarding the rest of the box. She leaned back into the sofa and pulled a blanket up to cover her chest and shoulders. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, ignoring the feeling of her increasingly upset stomach.

Just when she felt herself drifting off, the door swung open. His Belstaff billowed dramatically behind him as he entered the flat. She noticed that he had even put his collar up, which added to the theatrical effect. 

"What are you doing!" He bellowed.

"Resting!" She matched his tone. She was not in the mood. 

"I told you to meet me downstairs, the cabbie is about to leave! Not to mention him waiting is costing me a small fortune."

She got up and stood on the sofa. This way she was face to face with him. The blanket she had been using fell gracelessly to the floor. "I do not feel well. I am tired. I will be staying right here for the duration of the evening. You are not telling me to do anything." 

"Please." His tone was not mild mannered. "Tiredness and sickness is simply mind over matter. Someone has been murdered, poisoned in fact. I will not rest until this case is solved. Plus, you have tomorrow off. You can rest then."

"Well I'm not you. I am not some super human who can ignore pangs of hunger or the cloudiness of sleep. I lose my focus, I can't think straight. I would be no help to you."

"You're always a help." He said this rather softly. 

"Oh no you don't. Attempting to manipulate me is not going to work anymore. We're friends, right?" 

He nodded. 

"So please level with me. You're brilliant and it's admirable that you literally will not rest until you solve the case, but have some consideration for others. I feel as though I can't even move from the couch right now. I've run myself ragged. I need to rest." With that she stepped off the sofa and wobbled a bit. His hand darted out to steady her. She gave him a look of appreciation before picking up the blanket and settling back under it. 

"I understand. I apologize for pushing. I hope you feel better soon." He gave her a weak smile, which she returned. 

"How about this? You can tell me all about the body tomorrow if you haven't solved the case by then that is." With that she winked at him. Internally, she was a tad bewildered at her own actions. Had she really just winked at Sherlock Holmes?!

"Ok, that's a fair...compromise." He strode over to the door to exit, but turned again just before descending the stairs to meet her gaze. 

"Oh and by the way, I wasn't trying to manipulate you earlier. You really are always very helpful to me and I should tell you more how much I appreciate that." With that he left, not giving her a chance to respond. 

She smiled to herself as she laid down, now occupying the full length of the couch. They had certainly come a long way. With that pleasant thought lingering in her mind, she succumbed to sleep shortly after.


	2. Chapter 2

She awoke the next morning and instantly realized she wasn't on the couch anymore. The room was dark, but not dark enough to realize she wasn't in her own bedroom either. He must have moved her in here, but where did he sleep? Wait, he was on a case, he didn't sleep when on a case. She calmed considerably. She turned into the pillow and inhaled. A slight hint of musky cologne mixed with pine and sweat greeted her. It smelled just like him when she had on a few occasions been close enough to smell him and she could keep her face pressed into the beige cotton case all day. 

Another smell brought her out of her haze. Wafts of bacon, sausage, and coffee found her nose and she felt her mouth begin to water. She was much feeling better after resting for quite some time, even though she had gotten up at some point off the couch rather quickly to expel those few stale crackers into the toilet. She hadn't vomited since though and she took that as a good sign. 

She allowed herself to look around his room before exiting. She had always wondered what was in here and hadn't indulged her curiously since she moved in because she knew he would know that she had gone in. There were only a few pieces of basic furniture adorning the space, but what really caught her attention was what was on the wall. The periodic table was beautifully framed in gold. He was indeed a graduate chemist. There was also an anatomical honey bee print, which was also framed. She smiled at that. He would like bees, very misunderstood creatures. People had a hard time overlooking their fear factor and not how helpful they were to the ecosystem. 

She was about to get up when she noticed something even more curious. On the nightstand was a leather-bound book, which she recognized. It chronicled medical advances during the Victorian era in England. It had been bought at a small, mom and pop bookstore in St. John's Wood numerous years ago. She had taken such care wrapping it, only to have poison spewed at her because of it, she still shuddered at the memories of that night. She picked it up and thumbed through it, very surprised to see numerous pages turned down. She stopped at one of them and saw that Sherlock had even written notes in the margin. The topic was on skull size and its potential correlation to intelligence. 

She was still flipping through the pages when the door opened. 

"Ah Molly, you're awake. I thought I heard you moving around in here."

She dropped the book back onto the nightstand, embarrassed that he had caught her looking at it. 

Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice her embarrassment or rather just decided to ignore it. "Fascinating book. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I find myself re-reading sections of it when I'm not on a case."

"Well I'm glad you like it." She looked up at him. He was wearing dark blue pajama bottoms and a simple grey t-shirt, which was tight against his chest, much like all of his other shirts. Over the t-shirt he wore a blue silk dressing gown. His hair was rather disheveled, the onyx curls sticking up in all different directions. She was confused. When had he changed? Why had he changed? She would have thought that he would be up all night in his mind palace sorting through the evidence of the current case. He had never bothered to change before when working these things out in his head. 

Before she could ask about his appearance, he startled her by placing the back of his hand to her forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you for asking." He dropped his hand at that. 

"Your fever has broken and seeing as though you only vomited once, I would say you are on the road to recovery."

"How did you know..." she stopped herself, of course he knew. 

He answered anyway. "When I came home late last night, you were still on the sofa. I checked to make sure you were still breathing since you didn't seem to be moving at all and noticed there was a bit of vomit on your shirt. I knew you would be more comfortable in a bed so I moved you in here in case you needed the toilet again."

Molly looked down at her shirt, horrified, sure enough a dried stain was evident. "Well I appreciate it, Sherlock."

"You're welcome. Now, think you can muster up enough strength to come have breakfast?" 

"Oh! How terribly nice of Mrs. Hudson to prepare breakfast for us. It smells wonderful." She smiled as she climbed out of the bed. 

He frowned. "Mrs. Hudson had nothing to do with it."

"What?" Now she was really confused. 

"Yesterday, you told me to be considerate of others. You are sick, you haven't eaten anything substantial in almost 24 hours. I made you breakfast." He said it so matter-of-fact.

She grinned, she couldn't help it. She got up and he followed her into the kitchen. The table had been cleared of all experiments and set, with two place settings. "Did you solve the case this morning before breakfast since you'll be eating as well?" 

"No, I solved the case last night." He responded after taking a gulp of his coffee

"Oh. After you moved me?"

"No, before I got back. Gavin has the man in custody. It was the victim's son, he poisoned him as he was carrying on an affair with an older women and needed his trust fund and the will to take affect to continue to appease her desire for a lavish lifestyle. Pity that was it. It was merely a five at best."

She nodded and munched on a piece of bacon before asking, "So you actually slept?" Eyeing his attire. 

"I did."

"And how does your neck feel after sleeping on the couch?"

"It feels fine because I didn't sleep on the couch." He smirked. 

She took a long gulp of coffee that he had placed in front of her to gather her thoughts. He had remembered the exact way she took it. He had also smiled at her and had slept in the same bed as her, his bed to be precise, and she had slept through it all. She had imagined being in bed with him numerous times before, but obviously not like that. Certainly not with vomit on her shirt. 

"I didn't think you would mind." He said, eyeing her "But clearly, you're over thinking it."

"No, I don't mind." Recovering quickly, "It's your bed. Just didn't mean to put you out. I don't want to be a bother, being a guest here..."

He interrupted, "I made the decision to move you. I also made the decision to sleep there as well. I slept quite well considering. It's been a while since I've had a good night's sleep, but I digress. Molly, you are not a bother and I quite like having you here. I feel better with you here, knowing you're safe and the company, it's nice."

She perked up at the last bit, "The company is nice. Now if I could just get you to clean up after yourself and keep your experiments in the fridge to a minimum."

"Baby steps, Molly. I've never even made breakfast for John, let alone carry him into my bed whilst sick."

"Well that may force the rumors about you two to flare up a bit." She teased. 

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm married to my work." Sounding a bit disgruntled. 

She shook her head. "I know, I know. I'm just teasing you, Sherlock." 

He scoffed at that, but then forced a small smile, which she returned. They finished the rest of their breakfast in a comfortable silence. 

"That was delicious, I am certainly feeling much better, thank you again." She grinned as she pushed herself away from the table. 

He simply nodded in response as he got up and ventured into the sitting room. 

After she cleared and cleaned their plates, with no help from him, but 'Baby steps, Molly', she continued into the sitting room. Sherlock has already claimed his arm chair and looked deep in thought. 

"Fancy a walk, Sherlock? Spring is my favorite season and I'd quite like to take a stool around Regent's Park now that I'm feeling better." She offered, grabbing her jacket. 

He didn't respond. She hadn't really expected him to. She opened the door and that snapped him out of his head. 

"Going somewhere?"

"Yes, I'm going for a walk. Want to come?"

"To do what?"

"Just to walk, to enjoy the fresh air."

"Seems like a waste of time."

"Maybe to you, but I stuck in a morgue most of the time. A simple "No, thank you" would suffice."

He tilted his head, reminding her of a dog and squinted his eyes slightly. "No, thank you."

She smiled and started down the stairs, shutting the door behind her. She was met with a beautiful sunny day upon opening the front door. A perfect day for a walk. 

Before continuing down the road, she heard a window above her open and Sherlock's mess of curls came into view. 

"Molly, I'll be here when you get back. Maybe we can discuss the body even though I've already solved the case. I would like the get your thoughts on how low levels of arsenic over a long period of time affects the skin, major organs, etcetera."

"Sure thing. Maybe we can even order takeaway? How does Indian sound?"

"Preferable. I'll have my usual." With that, he withdrew his head and closed the window. 

She smiled and continued her walk, not noticing the slight bounce in her step. She would certainly miss this arrangement once he had sorted out the Moriarty thing, she had grown accustom to living with Sherlock and all of his idiosyncrasies. He had certainly learned a lesson on consideration and seemed to be moving in the right direction. As much as she knew that a romantic relationship was off the table, she could live with being a good friend of his and knowing just how much he appreciated her. 

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, there it is. Hope you liked it! Thank you for the kudos and comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked the first chapter. I will be posting the second one shortly.


End file.
